


Week 1: Lavender / Admiration

by DramioneLDWS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 11,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24114610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramioneLDWS/pseuds/DramioneLDWS
Summary: Each chapter is an individual drabble written by a single participant.Please mind the tags/triggers at the top of each entry.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 128
Kudos: 83
Collections: Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing - Round 1





	1. The Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Bargain  
> Rating: Teen and Up Audiences  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings/tags: no archive warnings apply
> 
> AUTHOR: [Kyonomiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyonomiko/pseuds/Kyonomiko)

Lavender is the first ingredient, so he imagines it is the most vital. He plucks it from his mother’s gardens in the night and spirits it away to his rooms, hiding. Always hiding. From the Dark Lord. From his family. From everyone except for her. 

Draco hardly recognizes himself, avoiding the gilded mirrors in the manor as he makes his way through the dim corridors. 

When Granger sees him, she no longer flinches away, believing him to be good. Maybe he is, in his own right. He gives her peace, even as he takes comfort from her. It’s an exchange really; a bargain. He hopes she would agree, if he only had the strength to tell her.

Reaching through the bars, he presents her cup. She’s thin and dirty, but Draco doesn’t mind. She’s always been beautiful, and the filth can’t take that from her. She nods her thanks and takes a sip. “You always make it perfect,” she tells him, and he grins at her with affection.

“I wish I could do more,” he says, glancing at the bars of her cage, but she shakes her head as she always does and tells him this is enough. It’s something at least, in a world when she thought she had nothing.

Potter will come for her, he promises, though he himself has stopped believing it. Her smile is sad, like she knows it’s a lie, and she drinks more.

The draught works quickly. She finishes the cup and lies down on her threadbare bedding, relishing in the rest that his potion brings. 

He waits, letting the anticipation build, eyes roving her partially bare legs.

When he knows she is out, deep in her magic induced sleep, Draco unlocks the door, looking first left and right to be sure he is alone. If they catch him they might take her away; hurt her. As it stands, they’ve nearly forgotten her, so Draco has taken her on as his ward, feeding and clothing as best he can.

Cautious, he approaches, caressing her arm, tracing her collarbone, more pronounced than he would like, knowing her meals are not enough. He will give her more, if he can manage it. He would give her a place at his side if he could.

Taking care not to wake her, he settles close on the small bed and sighs into the back of her neck, nose buried in her curls. He smells the lingering lavender from her cup and the sweat on her skin. She can’t know that he takes these liberties, pressing into the curves of her and pretending that she is his. 

He whispers to her softly, that she is kind and sweet and he loves her; begging forgiveness and expecting none. He lays gentle kisses on her shoulders and pretends they are lying on silk sheets in his opulent room. 

Draco sneaks away after a time, letting her rest, and never notices her eyes are open every time as he leaves.


	2. Mr. Purple-Nose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Mr. Purple-Nose  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 490  
> Warnings/Tags: Domestic Fluff, Shopping, Birthdays
> 
> AUTHOR: [LumosLyra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra)

“Mummy! I need him!” 

Three-year-old Lyra’s hand shoots out and grasps the paw of a lavender coloured bear before her mother passes the tidy display. Hermione carefully surveys the shelves in search of their favourite brands of cereal, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she silently debates whether or not to gingerly remove the bear from Lyra’s hands and tell her “Another time, sweetheart.” 

It’s only when one of the brightest smiles Hermione has ever seen spreads across the little blonde girl’s face as she looks at the small teddy, eyes sparkling with adoration for the little thing that Hermione decides she can’t do that to her youngest. Chubby fingers clutch the bear against her chest and she coos into his faux-fur covered ear about how she will love him forever and how he is coming home with her and that his name is now Mr. Purple-Nose. 

Behind the trolley, six-year-old Scorpius pouts as he holds his father’s hand, already grumpy because he absolutely was not allowed to have the new Fire-Breathing Charizard with moving wings and bonus Pokeball because his birthday is one week away. It’s such a stupid rule, he thinks and when his mum tried to explain that he could end up with two of them, he didn’t see the problem with that.

At all. 

“Why does Lyra get a bear?” he grumbles, tugging against the hand his father his holding. Draco’s grip is firm and he doesn’t let go, even when reaching for a box of cherry pop-tarts to toss into the trolley while Hermione is preoccupied with choosing cereals. 

“You can have one too, if you like.”

His lips curl into a near-perfect approximation of his father’s sneer and his nose wrinkles. “I wanted the Charizard.”

Meanwhile, Lyra is still petting and cooing at the bear, like she didn’t just get a stuffed crup last week from the nice man at the Magical Menagerie when Draco took her to buy owl treats for Archimedes. 

“You know the rules, Scor. No toys for two weeks before your birthday,” Draco admonishes, gently. “Your mother did say you could have your own bear. Would you like one?” 

When Scorpius looks at Lyra, hugging her new bear so tightly, it makes a little twinge of something pull in his chest at the sight of his sister so infatuated with the silly little lavender bear. 

Scorpius chews on his lip in a gesture so similar to his mother that Draco hides his smile behind his hand. “No, Dad. It’s okay. I’ll wait for my birthday,” he finally says as they round the corner to the aisle with all of the coffees. 

“That’s very mature of you, Scorpius.” 

***

Scorpius gets the Fire-Breathing Charizard with moving wings, the Spray-Away Blastoise that shoots real water, and the Vine-Action Venusaur with blooming flower, and three bonus Pokeballs for his birthday. 

***

Lyra takes Mr. Purple-Nose with her when she boards the train to Hogwarts.


	3. I Told You So...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: I Told You So...  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 431  
> Warnings/Tags: None
> 
> AUTHOR: [Tygermine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tygermine/pseuds/Tygermine)

“We’re not using lavender oil.”

Hermione blinked in surprise at his words. “But the spell calls for it.”

“The ritual is simply for show, Granger. If you use the lavender oil, it will sanctify the ritual and things will go horribly wrong. Why am I even explaining this to you?” Malfoy crossed his arms.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a great honour to be chosen to open the Beltane celebrations by doing the Blessing of Brighid and Herne.”

“Not if I didn’t volunteer to be Herne in the first place.”

“Volunteered, ordered, po-tay-to, po-tah-to. The fact is we need to do this and if you back out now, all the volunteer work you actually signed up for will be for nothing in the eyes of the public.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes at her. “Can’t we just ask Potter and spouse to do it?”

“They did last year and Ginny is now heavily pregnant.”

“Even better. A pregnant woman blessing the Beltane hearth holds more weight.”

“She’s about to give birth any day now. Come on, Malfoy, it’s not like we’re doing a handfasting. It’s a simple blessing where we represent the gods.”

Malfoy knew he couldn’t change her mind and decided that agreeing with her would make the night less of a trial.

Later...

“So, what you’re saying, is the reason we’re currently naked together was because the lavender oil we used found the tiny drops of attraction we had for each other, and decided to play matchmaker? That’s just ridiculous. We just had too much to drink.”

“Granger, we didn’t just shag, we are handfasted.” He did a charm that revealed a bright golden string stretching between their hands.

“But...but it was just a representative ritual, not an actual spell.”

“This is where I would love to dance around singing I-told-you-so, but I need to make sure my father hasn’t checked the family tree and noticed your addition to it.”

Granger smiled at the thought. “I bet it’d give him the conniptions.”

“Imagine something more Vesuvian.” He studied her as she lay on her back next to him, covers barely protecting her modesty. “I thought you’d be just as apoplectic under the circumstances.”

She shrugged. “I think the serotonin from the multiple orgasms last night is delaying my anger. Give me a few hours and I suspect I’ll be furious. For now, let me enjoy the afterglow.”

Malfoy smiled. “I’m not in any hurry to get home myself. Want to see if we can push those multiple orgasms into double figures?”

“Challenge accepted,” she smirked as she rolled towards him.


	4. Lavare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Lavare  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 472  
> Warnings/Tags: None
> 
> AUTHOR: [I_was_BOTWP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_was_BOTWP/pseuds/I_was_BOTWP)

With the two overstuffed chairs and small coffee table pushed to the edges of her library, and the throw rug rolled back, there was just enough room to draw a ritual circle on the wooden floor.

Purified with sea salt, and each quadrant given its due, Hermione Granger knelt in the center of the chalk circle - hair loose, and a simple undyed flax shift her only adornment. 

To the east, a lavender smudge lent its fragrant smoke to the air.

To the south, a single flame flickered from the silver candle she had inscribed with the runes Gebo, Wunjo, and Sowilo.

To the north, sat a terracotta bowl filled with soil, gathered from the base of the lavender plant in her garden.

To the west, the simple bronze chalice she had purchased just for rituals was filled with blessed water.

As the scent of lavender grew stronger, Hermione closed her eyes, meditating on her purpose, relaxing a little more each time she exhaled.

When she felt ready, she opened her eyes and reached her hands out over the smouldering bunch of herbs. Watching the smoke twirl around her fingers, she said, "With air, I cleanse myself."

Shifting her body, she faced the candle that held her prayer for love carefully etched into the wax. She visualized the flame burning away her past relationship mistakes as she raised her hands above it, whispering, "With fire, I cleanse myself."

She moved again, picking up handfuls of rich dirt, then crumbling it back into the unglazed bowl. Thoughts of new love, planted carefully like seeds in the spring, filled her mind. "With earth, I cleanse myself."

Finally, she turned to the final quadrant and beheld the chalice. Dipping her fingertips in the water, Hermione washed her hands clean, her voice strong as she stated, "With water, I cleanse myself."

In silence, she knelt a bit longer, head bowed and damp hands on her knees, letting the elements do their work. Keeping her thoughts clear of all but her goal, Hermione opened herself to the possibility of her soul finding joy and harmony with its other half, a true meeting of equals.

After the circle had been properly broken, the items used in her ritual carefully stowed back in their places, and her library put to rights, the smell of lavender still lingered in her small cottage. Tomorrow morning she would open the windows, and the warm summer breeze would clear away the last of it. But tonight, tonight she hoped it would color her dreams.

Later, as the full moon began its descent, shining across her garden and through the gauzy drapes in her bedroom, Hermione slumbered peacefully. But in her dreams, she spun through a sunlit field of lavender, her fingers brushing along the deep purple flowers, laughing joyfully, Draco Malfoy at her side.


	5. Unreal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Unreal  
> Rating: Teen and Up  
> Word Count: 495  
> Warnings/Tags: War, Explicit Language
> 
> AUTHOR: [PartyLines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PartyLines/pseuds/PartyLines)

The lone woman is a vision in the burnt orange of Phoenix robes that swirl around her legs. Her wand is stretched before her, releasing sharp flashes of rumbling destruction into the fields at his back, and he’s too awestruck by the crackle of power to find better cover. He almost gasps in recognition.

 _Granger_. 

It’s not supposed to be this way; she’s not supposed to be able to wield such force, and he’s not supposed to be hiding. 

A curdling cackle creeps closer behind him, and the stench of death and that sickly headache-inducing _purple_ is briefly smothered by the presence of his aunt. Jamming his wand between his teeth and biting down hard enough to add yet more marks to its worn surface, he hisses in pain. One hand subconsciously adjusts the fluid silver mask obscuring his face and the other digs splitting fingernails into the putrid, rotting flesh on his left forearm. 

Bella knows who it is, and she’s called _Him_ already. 

Fuck. 

Draco shudders and tightens his focus.

There’s something… _startling_ in the way that Granger commands attention as she forges on towards them—the enemy. Her face is bright and so alive against her frizzing, wild hair, and when the colours of her spells rent the inky night, he’s struck still by the thundering expression on her face. 

Somewhere through the years of war, Granger’s grown up, and he bends to vomit when his breaths come too short and there’s a rush of heat in his bones. He tells himself it’s another attack—the anxiety that’s been growing faster and faster lately—and counts to one hundred inside his head. It doesn’t help. 

Shit. Perhaps it’s something else. 

Granger doesn’t speak until Bella appears not two feet in front of her, and then she snarls. “Don’t come anywhere _near_ me,” she says, loudly enough that Draco can feel the vendetta in the timbre of her words. “Don’t you fucking touch me, you vile bitch.” 

He recalls an evening long ago in his drawing room and vomits again. If Granger was strength then, she’s iron now. 

Bella giggles, her face softened into youth with joy. “Oh, you remember me, darling?” She’s after more; something to play with, he’s sure. “I’d be careful who you call vile, you insolent little—”

Her eyes widen as she’s cut short.

Pelting rain explodes from the cloudless sky above, and a single bolt of lightning strikes the ground. Flames erupt around them and Granger is fury bent on decimating their number. The Dark Lord arrives just in time to see green light find Dolohov as he slinks closer—a tinkling silver chain snapping from his neck and into Granger’s outstretched palm—and then it’s over in a moment of unfathomable control.

Against a backdrop of magical stormy skies and endless fields of calming lavender, Hermione Granger snaps her fingers and the lights go out. 

When they return, she’s gone and Draco Malfoy’s war is changed.


	6. Potions Project Predicament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Potions Project Predicament  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 496  
> Tags/Warnings: No Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe, Epilogue What Epilogue?, 8th Year, swearing
> 
> AUTHOR: [StoneAndRoses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoneAndRoses/pseuds/StoneAndRoses)

At first Draco thought Snape’s flowers assignment was stupid. But this was Advanced Potions, they should be able to adjust or develop potions based off of different ingredients. The liquid in front of him was perfectly clear as he dropped the dried lavender into the boiling cauldron. 

Purple smoke curled out in plumes, the tips furling together into hearts. It looked like a second year’s diary margins, and made Draco want to vomit. But, as a privately educated pureblood, he knew that most flower’s properties had something to do with what they represented. Lavender represented admiration, but also showed femininity; there was no way he’d be wasting his time on a beauty potion.

Instead Draco had taken an already tricky veritaserum, and modified it with the flowers as well as an eagle eye. Instead of spewing the truthful answer to any questions asked, the drinker would spout genuine compliments at whoever they made eye contact with. He set his project to simmer before returning extra ingredients to the store room. 

\------

Hermione’s experiment wasn’t going as smoothly as she would have liked. Roses were a tricky ingredient to do anything with other than make some kind of love potion and she wouldn’t stoop that low. Snape had surely given her the ingredient to stump her, like he had assigned Malfoy as her partner to annoy her. Snape was still a snarky bastard, even after his tussle with Nagini. Surprisingly, Malfoy was an excellent partner.

As she reviewed her notes, a heavenly scent assaulted her nose. Draco's potion smelled good enough to bathe in. Placing her quill down, she rubbed her temples and took another sniff. Curious, she looked around for the creator and shifted her stool over to get a better look. 

The liquid was clear with a _slight _purple tint. It had no smell except for the flower. Did the idiot just steep it in hot water? Was Draco brewing lavender tea? She leaned in closer to investigate.__

__“Can I help you, Granger?” drawled Draco, sneaking up behind her. Startled, Hermione jumped, her hips bumped into the cauldron, tilting it slightly, the potion splashing into her face as she stood._ _

__“Shite,” she mumbled, turning to look at Draco._ _

__His wide eyes met hers, “Oh no, did you-”_ _

__“You have gorgeous eyes,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “Like storm clouds, swirling on the edge of chaos. And I love the way you’ve started wearing your hair, your fringe makes you look like less of a ponce.”_ _

__Hermione was mortified, but words kept coming, “I’m glad we’re potions partners this year because now I know how smart you really are when you’re not being an arse. Speaking of your arse, it's magnificent-”_ _

__Draco graciously covered her mouth with his hand and said, “While I appreciate the compliments, we’ll just do this until my potion wears off in a couple minutes.” Smiling, he leaned in closer whispering, “Don’t worry though, I like you too.”_ _


	7. The Smell of Lavender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The smell of Lavender  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 248  
> Warnings and Tags: None
> 
> AUTHOR: [Toya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toya/pseuds/Toya)

Hermione remembers the first time that she truly saw Draco Malfoy after the war. As part of his probation he was ordered to help in the rebuilding efforts of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade plus any other Wizarding areas decimated by Voldemort. They were working in the Potions lab cleaning up the supply room.

He startled her by speaking, she dropped the bottle of lavender oil. He apologized. Once he started it seemed he couldn’t stop. He apologized for That Night. For calling her names, for believing her to be inferior. He claimed that he didn’t think that way after all. That he admired her courage, her loyalty. He claimed her to be an asset to any House after the war. She slapped him.

Later, as she thought over his words puzzling over whether they were truthful or not, a regal looking owl came to her window (Ginny’s window) at the Burrow and dropped off a letter bearing a sprig of lavender. Mrs. Weasley who was dropping off the laundry when it arrived, remarked, “Lavender for admiration. Do you have a secret admirer perhaps?” Hermione just shook her head. Rather than prying, Molly just patted her hand and remarked that combined with chamomile flowers in a sachet, it could inspire sweet dreams when placed under her pillow.

The next day, she dared him to prove his words, to prove that he was changed, that he admired her the way he claimed to, that he was truly sorry. And he did.


	8. A Lavender Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: A Lavender Tradition  
> Rating: G  
> Word count: 499  
> Warnings/Tags: Fluff, Tradition, Superstition, Humour, Lavender, EWE
> 
> AUTHOR: [Art3misiA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Art3misiA/pseuds/Art3misiA)

Draco climbed into bed and sighed contentedly as he made himself comfortable. After a long, exhausting day of teaching Potions, he wanted nothing more than to sink into the blissful oblivion of sleep. He was just drifting off when—

What was that gods-awful _smell?_

Suddenly wide awake, he sat up with a muttered curse and sniffed the air. The scent was familiar, but his tired brain couldn’t quite place it. Perhaps it was just residue from the classroom. He got out of bed and gathered up his robes, taking them to the laundry basket, before climbing back under the blankets.

There it was _again!_ Burying his face in the pillow, he inhaled and promptly started coughing. Whipping it away, Draco stared in amazement at the neatly tied bundle of fresh lavender sprigs resting on the sheet. “What in Merlin’s name—?”

He got up again and found his bathrobe, pulling it on with short, irritated movements, then snatched up the offending plant, stormed out of his room and down the hall of the teachers’ quarters. He stopped in front of a familar door and rapped on it smartly.

“Granger!”

He heard movement within, and a few moments later Hermione’s bushy hair greeted him, followed shortly by the rest of her face. “Draco, what’s wrong?” she asked sleepily. 

“Care to explain this?” He thrust the purple flowers at her. 

Hermione recoiled slightly, then looked from his hand to his face. “It’s lavender,” she said after a moment, her voice full of confusion.

“I _know_ it’s lavender, Granger,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. “What I want to know is what it’s doing under my pillow.”

“Under your—? How should _I_ know?” she replied, her brows knitting together in annoyance. “Did you seriously interrupt me just before bed to talk in riddles?”

“But then who—no one else has access to my—” Draco stammered, now utterly perplexed.

“I’m sorry—did you say it was under your pillow?”

He nodded slowly. 

Hermione’s face went an adorable shade of red and she looked down at her feet, then back up. “Um—” she coughed lightly, seemingly embarrassed. “Lavender was sometimes placed under a young man’s pillow in order to encourage him to ask for a lady’s hand in marriage.”

“To encourage—ask for—marriage?” he spluttered. “Then who—but _why_ —How did you know that?”

“Read it in a book,” she mumbled.

“And you're certain you didn't put this _weed_ in my bed?”

“Of course I’m certain,” she replied impatiently. “Besides, you know how I feel about superstitious rubbish like that.”

“Then who—” Draco’s eyes widened as everything clicked into place. Hermione wasn’t superstitious, no. But he knew someone who was. “Mother. She’s responsible.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll deal with this. Goodnight.” Flustered, he turned on his heel and hurried down the hall. She called his name and he paused, turning to look at her.

“I would consider it. You know, if you asked.” She gave him a coy smile, bid him goodnight, and shut the door.


	9. Just the Shampoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Just The Shampoo  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 416  
> Warnings/Tags: Fluff
> 
> AUTHOR: [NotAMuggleMiss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAMuggleMiss/profile)

“What on earth is that disgusting smell, Draco?”

She’s raging at me in all her temperamental glory as she comes barrelling out of the bathroom in a huff. She drops her towel as she reaches into the closet and I can’t help but take an extra moment to admire her. With her face flushed and her hair flying about her head, she looks like an angry goddess and I sincerely hope she never changes, until the day I die.

She’s made a sentimental fool out of me, she has. My wife. The love of my life. I smile like a besotted fool.

“What smell, Darling?” I ask gently. “There’s nothing new in the bathroom since yesterday.”

“The shampoo! It’s dreadful! I’ve never noticed it before.” she seems to shout and mutter all at once as she hurries around the room getting dressed. She’s all efficiency and order in the morning. I can’t help but grin a little wider.

“It’s just lavender, dear. The same scent it’s always been.” I tease gently. 

“I hate it. I almost retched in the shower,” she states matter-of-factly as she slips on her shoes. She’s pretending she’s mad, but she forgets I know her better than she thinks, her nose always crinkles when she’s upset.

“I’m sorry, love. I’ll get something new later today. Are you feeling quite well?” I ask, knowing the concern in my voice is as likely to irritate her as comfort her.

“Yes...no. UGH! I was going to surprise you but my damn sense of smell ruined everything.” she grumbles and looks at me apprehensively for a moment longer than I expect. It’s enough to give me pause, my wife is not the uncertain type, ever.

I’m still confused when she walks over to me and kisses me gently on the lips, the same way she does every day before leaving to go to work.

“I love you. I’m pregnant. Have a good day!” she breathes out all at once with a smile that briefly brings out the dimples in her cheeks, before walking out the door and down the hall towards the kitchen and the floo.

I’m speechless, nothing new, to be honest. She never ceases to surprise me. We’ve been trying for ages. I’m ecstatic until I realise she’ll be gone before I move at this rate.

“Hermione! Come back here! You can’t just leave after telling me that!” I shout out the door after her. If I run, I just might catch her.


	10. Lavender and Green Apples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Lavender and Green Apples  
> Rating: T+  
> Word Count: 479  
> Warnings/Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Fluff, Amortentia
> 
> AUTHOR: [miss-eee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss-eee/pseuds/miss-eee)

Draco Malfoy hated the scent of lavender. 

Which is why, after having already sniffed the potion in front of him, he found himself leaning in once more. 

Lavender. 

Memories of his Grandmother Druella flooded his brain. Lavender smelled like teas at the Manor, like the disdain in her voice over the ivory and gold embroidered curtains hanging in the drawing-room. Like the perfume she dossed herself in. 

Lavender.

It was a very distinct smell, said to have healing properties. Instead, it only managed to make his stomach churn. 

He leaned in a third time, trying to make sense of this distinct mixture. The smell of old books and parchment paper he could almost understand, but lavender? 

Memories of Pansy gifting him that God-awful dreamless sleep pillow spray at the start of the year. She said it should "help calm his nerves and improve his sleep". He hadn’t read the label, hadn’t bothered to check the ingredients, thinking it was the same formula as the popular potion. It’d taken the house-elves almost two weeks of washing his pillowcase daily before that smell was gone. 

Lavender.

Memories of that specialty candle shop in Diagon Alley his mother liked to frequent that always seemed to make his eyes water. When he was younger, it was a rare occasion that he got to accompany his mother on her shopping days, and he’d happily held her hand as she dragged him along beside her. It had been on the promise of Florean Fortescue’s for mint chocolate chip ice cream that he’d followed her into that shop that first day. Even all of these years later, that scent lingered in his mind and he’d refused to accompany her inside the shop ever since. 

Lavender.

His eyes darted up, nervously looking around the classroom. Her dark brown eyes caught his as she spoke to Professor Slughorn. Even from this far away, he could hear the hesitation in her voice as she listed off the notes that she smelled from within the potion - new parchment, freshly mowed grass, and green apples. 

The panic that washed over her face only caused him to smirk, holding her gaze as he reached for the green apple he kept in his bag, tossing it teasingly between his hands. 

Professor Slughorn soon made his way over to Draco’s table and for a fourth time, he discreetly sniffed at the potion, this time finding different notes. Lavender, mixed with another scent. Something minty, fresh and crisp that he was almost sure he recognized.

Lavender and eucalyptus. 

After class was dismissed, he raced to catch up with her in the hallway. 

“Green apples? Really, Granger?” He reached her arm, spinning her around towards him. That scent wafted around him as her dark curls flipped in his direction, and he knew almost instantly where he’d smelled it before. 

Hermione Granger used lavender and eucalyptus-scented shampoo.


	11. descent into darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: descent into darkness  
> Rating: M  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings/Tags: underage, english witchcraft, blood, occult, cult, loss of innocence implied, satanism
> 
> AUTHOR: [Msmerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Msmerlin/pseuds/Msmerlin)

He was like the moon.

Bright and beautiful, ominous and brooding. Cleansing her soul in ways that words could never explain.

As a child, she would lay in bed, hints of the moon peeking through her roof. If she closed one eye, and outstretch her fingers, it was as if she could touch its pockmarked surface.

She loved the moon, and the promise of the night. Afterall, it was during the night when she first found him.

Fourteen—barely old enough to bleed, yet old enough to be promised to an aging man.

She didn’t want to be a bride.

She wanted to go to school—to be educated.

She wanted to _feel._

And Warlock Malfoy? Well, he certainly made her feel.

The first time she saw him he was shrouded in purple, chest on display. Runes painted on alabaster skin in crimson. Atop his head, crown of thorn and bone. Around him naked women danced, chanted in a language that her ear wasn’t yet attuned to.

When he spoke, oh how he ignited a fire inside her. Her thighs pressed together, a sinful need burned in her sex, but also her soul.

He was powerful—the flames licked higher with each honeyed syllable that spilled from his tongue. She watched him until the sky painted coral and the sun's rays touched the earth.

She needed to know more of these people.

She needed to join in their merriment. To be free of the life she didn’t want and allow herself the freedom to feel.

Cunning folk. That was the polite term—or at least it was the one townsfolk felt most comfortable whispering, but she knew what they really meant.

Witches.

They danced in the moonlight, and pledged fealty to not the Heavenly Father, but his Fallen Angel.

She should have been scared—weary, but the image of the blond, so bewitching and omnipotent, was one she could not forget. It called to her. Wove into not just her consciousness, but her dreams.

She wanted to pledge allegiance not just to the Dark Lord, but also to him. 

She wanted him to possess her. She wanted to surrendering her innocence to a man she knew nothing about.

Her choice had been made before she found home in the coven. She was going to give herself to the Warlock.

This wanton decision was how she found herself naked in the forest. 

Her skin had been scrubbed raw by the soothsayers and anointed in oil. She smelled of flowers, with just the hint of a woody undertone. They marked her in blood with the same runes she’d seen before. So unknown back then, but she now understood their meaning.

Power.

Wealth.

And the one painted over her womb? Fertility.

A crown of lavender wove into her curls, and though she knew that the coven surrounded them, singing her descent into the depths of hell, she only had eyes for the flaxen haired Warlock who stood before her, ready to claim her as his own.


	12. A Meadow of Wildflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: A Meadow of Wildflowers  
> Rating: T+  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings/Tags: No warnings apply, Lavender, Memories
> 
> AUTHOR: [LadyLionBee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LionLadyBee/pseuds/LionLadyBee)

Hermione had finished putting dinner on the table when Draco sat down in the chair across from the one she was standing behind. She took a moment to really drink him in her eyes and see the man before and she noticed that he had a defeated look in his eyes. As she really took in the rest of him, she noticed he had some dark purple stuff on his chin and he smelled of lavender. 

Not one to miss a beat she asked him “Are you making batches of sleeping draught again?” 

“Yes, but I keep getting something wrong with calculations for a larger batch. I can’t afford to mess this up.” He grumbled. 

“Well one thing we don’t have to worry about is the fact that we won't ever run out of supply of that flower. If that is what you are concerned about… the other ingredients will come as we get them.” 

She knew it wouldn’t quell his worry but she didn’t want this to ruin their dinner. She pulled out the chair and sat down across from him. 

“What project is this for now anyway?” She asked after taking a bite of her food. 

“It’s for St. Mungos, they were running out of supply, and in order to fulfill the duties we promised to them after the war, It’s either this or the galleons.” He trailed off.

She knew full well what he was talking about and it absolutely gutted her because of the fact he refused her help. The greatest thing about him living with her however is that she lived next to a meadow filled with wildflowers. Her favorite of the bunch lavender for it calmed her soul, she would spend hours of her day out there sitting amongst the flowers. 

She thought back to when she begged him to move in, he wouldn’t budge on moving out of the manor, on account he still was working on potion projects. The high demand of Sleeping Draught, and the abundance of flowers in her yard she formulated a plan. She slowly added a potion workshop to her house, and he began occasionally disappearing into it during the day. 

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into a month and finally she felt she had him where he couldn't refuse her. She laid out a blanket in the field they had a picnic for dinner. Once the sun went down, a few drinks were had and the night ran hot. It was on the blanket wrapped up together stark naked amongst the lavender he told her he loved her and told her he’d move in. 

Snapping out of her memory she realized he had been talking to her. “Sorry I was distracted.” 

“I was telling you this is so good love, you’ve really topped the list of good dinners again….but what has you so distracted?” Draco asked

“I was thinking back to the first time you said I love you,” Hermione confessed with a smile.


	13. Desperate for Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Desperate for Relief  
> Rating: K+/G  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, mentions of PTSD
> 
> AUTHOR: [FaeOrabel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeOrabel/pseuds/FaeOrabel)

Hermione was frantic as she rushed into Diagon. She couldn’t believe she let her potion stores get so low. 

She pushed past people with an apology and headed to her last hope. The bell overhead jingled loudly as she busted open the door. 

"I need _the_ lavender, Monty," Hermione rushed out. 

"Ah, Hermione. One moment, let me check in the back," Fleemont smiled and went to the back room. He was her usual wholesaler when she needed large quantities of supplies. But when she just needed something small to get by or to add to a test potion, she would just hit up the closest apothecary to her. 

Hermione took a deep breath. Monty would have it; he would help her and she could make her potion for this week. Once she took it, she would have more time to find more. 

Fleemont came out from the back room with a dejected look. 

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I don't have any. I should get a shipment on Friday," he tried to console her. 

It was Monday. Friday would be too late.

"I can't wait that long, Monty!" Hermione groaned. 

The bell to the store jingled again, but Hermione barely heard it in her despair.

"I need it today and you're the last apothecary that has the strain I need," Hermione's hands threaded into her hair. 

"I know, Hermione. I'm so sorry," Monty said with big eyes. 

"Hey, Fleemont, uh, anything I can help with?" A voice Hermione knew intimately said next to her. 

"Hey, Mr. Malfoy, Hermione here needs an ingredient I've run out of," Monty told Draco.

"What are you missing, Granger?" Draco asked.

"The lavender planted on a full moon with the roots wrapped in orange peels," Hermione said hopeless he'd be able to help her. She looked at him and noticed he'd grown his hair out since the last time she'd seen him. 

That night.

Their night.

"Put this in a bag for me and charge it to my vault," Draco said without taking his eyes off Hermione. "I have some... if you'd like to come over. You can have as much as you can carry."

Hermione perked up exponentially. "Are you serious?"

"Of course. Anything for you, Granger," Draco smiled softly. "I planted some last moon cycle when I was trying to make a stronger calming draught."

Ten minutes later found Hermione and Draco on his property. Draco led her to the field she needed and she surprised both of them when she laid down among the flowers. 

"Is this for your... PTSD?" Draco asked quietly as he sat down next to her. 

"Yes. If I missed tonight’s dose, I would've been back to square one on the treatment I'm creating for extended Cruciatus exposure."

"Is it working?"

"So far," Hermione turned and smiled up at him. 

"Do you ever think of that night we had?" Draco asked.

"All the time, Draco."

Draco smiled softly and leaned down to kiss her amongst the field of lavender.


	14. The Longest Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Longest Game  
> Rating: T  
> Word count: 497  
> Warnings/Tags: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, Romance, Falling in love, Ball, Dancing
> 
> AUTHOR: [FemmeBrulee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemmeBrul%C3%A9e/pseuds/FemmeBrul%C3%A9e)

The moon reigned over a violet night. Malfoy Manor stood tall and proud against the sky and glittering people drank and danced on its sprawling grounds. 

But deep within its cold, stone walls, the house was battered and bruised from war. 

Hermione supposed appearances mattered to the Malfoys, if nothing else. It was the only plausible reason for the society ball they had thrown that evening. Pretending, no doubt, that they had changed, and that the war was merely a regrettable footnote in their shining family history.

They were doing a convincing job, too. Hermione could not find a single speck of Slytherin green amongst the festivities. Instead, the Malfoys had opted to adorn their estate and trim their usual black garments in soft, blushing purple hues. It was their way of severing ties with old allegiances and letting new things blossom.

Still, purple simply wasn’t their colour.

“Enjoying the atmosphere, Granger?” Draco Malfoy appeared beside her like a silent breeze, sipping wine as he watched the crowd. 

“What are you playing at, Malfoy?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. His blond hair and alabaster skin stood out against the fine black suit he wore. A sprig of lavender peeked from his breast pocket.

“What ever do you mean?” he drawled with detached amusement.

“All _this_ ,” she gestured toward the decorations and dancing guests. “Disguising yourselves, hiding behind false—”

“Not quite, Granger” he interrupted, setting his glass down on the cocktail table behind him. “We prefer the term ‘rebranding.’”

She scoffed. “No amount of ‘rebranding’ will ever be enough to restore your family name.”

His lip curled and he looked like he was about to say something caustic, but he seemed to catch himself.

“Dance with me,” he said, more serenely than she had ever heard him speak.

“What?”

“Dance. You know, like these people are doing. I promise I won’t hex you”

She hesitated for a moment, then warily took his outstretched hand. 

“I still don’t trust you, Malfoy.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, drawing her gracefully into the crowd. “My family’s reputation is in tatters. It’s going to be a long time before anyone fully trusts us again.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder as he took her waist. “How can you be so sure that will ever happen?”

“We can’t.” He spun her around. “But we have to try. Think of it as a long game, devoting yourself to something every day for as long as it takes. Except, I suppose the task of atoning for war never really ends.”

“And you’re willing to wait that long? For an outcome you can’t be sure of?” she asked.

He touched his palm to the small of her back and pulled her infinitesimally closer.

“If it's what I want more than anything else. Then yes.”

And as they moved beneath the pale gleam of the moon, Hermione couldn’t help but feel like something was only just beginning.


	15. The Object of His Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Object of His Affection  
> Rating: K  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings/Tags: None
> 
> AUTHOR: [anne_ammons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anne_ammons/pseuds/anne_ammons)

“…Lavender.” His voice was a whisper from a nearby table in the Potions classroom. He sounded surprised, almost in awe.

It was too much for her to take. Hermione watched Draco Malfoy stand up after inhaling the fumes of the potion brewing in front of him. She had been eavesdropping. She shouldn’t have been listening. She shouldn’t have hoped that perhaps he might have smelled something that reminded him of her. 

Hermione turned her attention back to her own cauldron, trying to ignore the scent of books, broom polish and crisp green apples. 

Lavender. She shook her head and narrowed her eyes at her unsuspecting roommate who was laughing and flirting with Ron just a few tables away. 

There was a time when Hermione thought she might have smelled things like mown grass, but she and Ron were far better at being friends.

And that made it sting even more. 

Draco had taken to studying with her in the library this year. Along the way, they had become friends, and could be more, Hermione thought. She had come to enjoy Draco’s company. They could discuss the intricacies of their homework and truly match wits. But clearly, he was just like the rest of them, more interested in a short skirt and ample bosom. Hermione vanished the contents of her cauldron and began stuffing her books into her bag, hoping to escape the room and find a quiet spot to nurse her heartache.

She didn’t want to go back to her room. She couldn’t head to the library where _he_ might be. She ended up in the nook behind the tapestry of Gawain and the Green Knight and conjured her robes into a fluffy blanket. She pulled the blanket tight around her and eventually fell asleep.

Later, her eyes opened when she heard footsteps in the corridor. She sat up and frowned. It was dark. She had been asleep longer than she’d intended. Her stomach rumbled as the tapestry was pulled aside.

Standing there was the object of her misplaced affection. Stupid boys, she thought. But, on Draco’s face was a look of concern. “You missed dinner. I brought you this.” 

“How did you find me?”

“You mentioned Gawain’s story as one of your favorites. When I didn’t see you in the library or at dinner, I thought you might be here.”

He noticed the blanket. “You okay?”

She nodded, not meeting his gaze. “Just fell asleep, I guess.”

Draco jumped up to join her on the ledge. “Can I ask you something?” 

She felt his eyes on her still.

“Sure.”

“What did you smell this afternoon?”

She looked at him. Why would he want to rub salt in her wound? 

When she didn’t answer, he continued with that smirk that she found equal parts infuriating and attractive, “I’ll tell you what I smelled, “Parchment, cat and lavender.” He bent over and inhaled, his nose skirting her curls. “Lavender. It’s your shampoo, isn’t it?”

“Oh.” Her heart leapt. “Oh!”


	16. How To Give Your Troublemaking Son Detention and Feel Like Complete Hypocrites: by Hermione & Draco Granger-Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: How To Give Your Troublemaking Son Detention and Feel Like Complete Hypocrites: by Hermione & Draco Granger-Malfoy  
> Rating: T  
> Words: 499  
> Warnings/Tags: None
> 
> AUTHOR: [fandomfairytales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfairytales/pseuds/fandomfairytales)

One name scrawled on a detention slip signed by Professor Slughorn was all it took to make Hermione Granger wish the vial she was reaching for in her desk-drawer contained something other than lavender essence for her throbbing head. 

As Hogwarts’ new Headmistress, stress-induced headaches were annexed to the job title. Unfortunately, her son was a frequent contributing factor to her need for such ‘remedies’ not limited to essential oils. 

Scorpius Malfoy had evidently inherited his parent’s immeasurable intelligence, in addition to their inability to keep out of trouble. 

Discipline was a nightmare, to say the least, and neither she nor Draco could escape the guilt stemming from such blatant hypocrisy. 

She massaged her temples with a frustrated sigh, weighing up her options. 

_His father was certainly going to hear about this._

oOo

Precisely ten minutes after her owl was sent, a firm knock echoed through her office. She flicked her fingers to reveal the potions master, her husband being used as an unwitting human shield. 

A flash of sooty, platinum blond hair peeked out nervously from behind Draco and she resisted the urge to smile, instead schooling her features into something that resembled a fond frown. It was the best she could do. 

It was almost comical watching her son approach her desk like she was a human volcano about to erupt; at least he had the decency to look contrite as he took a seat beside his father. 

“So, Professor Slughorn sent you?”

“Yes, Mum.” 

“And would you like to explain to us why you-” she paused and glanced down, reading the slip aloud “- added lavender roots to a potion that called for flowers; causing a reaction worthy of Uncle Seamus’ greatest explosions, and fumes that anaesthetised half the class?” 

Draco snorted and hilarious as it was, she glared at him over the frame of her glasses; it was hardly the right time even if it was incredibly ironic. 

“I didn’t _mean_ to.” Scorpius grumbled, looking so much like Draco at eleven it was uncanny. 

“Now, we both know that isn’t true. You’ve been making sleeping draughts with your father since you were three; so, what happened?”

“I got distracted.”

“Oh? Do tell?” Draco interrupted with a knowing smirk. 

She almost wished he hadn’t asked by the time Scorpius had finished explaining. 

He’d been making moon eyes at a girl; Rose Weasley to be exact. 

At least Pansy would be amused; Ron likely less so. Draco was clearly proud and Hermione… When she finally sent him back to class, all she could think was that their little boy was growing up too fast. 

“Can’t say I don’t admire the kid’s Slytherin ambition.”

“You would.” She teased, rising from her desk.

“Well, look at how a little healthy admiration worked out for me; I married a gorgeous witch, she blessed me with a family-”

She interjected with a jubilant kiss, tangling her fingers in his hair until their lungs screamed for air. 

"Hello to you too."


	17. Drunk on Lavender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Drunk on Lavender  
> Rating: T  
> Word count: 499  
> Warning/Tags: Alcohol consumption. Drunk flirting.
> 
> AUTHOR: [thelastlynx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastlynx/pseuds/thelastlynx)

Hermione scowled across the Three Broomsticks.

‘Why the face, Granger?’

Someone slid onto the bench next to her, following her gaze to the bar where Ron and Lavender were an unsavoury display of hands and mouths. Even through her irritation, Hermione noted that this someone smelled very nice indeed. Belatedly, she realised the implications.

‘Go away, Malfoy.’

‘Why do you let it bother you so much?'

‘ _Let_ it bother me?’ Hermione snorted. ‘How could I _not_ , considering…’ She gestured angrily at the sight before them. Lavender was straddling Ron's lap, giggling at every word whispered into her ear.

Malfoy made a strange sound, and Hermione finally tore her gaze away to look at him properly. He was staring at her in an odd, intense sort of way. Odder still, he was _smiling_. Oddest of all was Hermione’s reaction. Her heart started thumping wildly in her chest.

‘What's your problem?’ she demanded, grabbing her glass and gulping down so much Firewhisky she choked.

‘I’m sorry to say but I can’t help but find it all amusing. Weren't you the one who broke it off in the first place?’

‘Doesn't mean I enjoy him going on the rebound not 24 hours later.’ Malfoy, the delicious-smelling bastard, chuckled. ‘Yes, yes, very funny. But I’d bet my Order of Merlin you'd feel differently if it was Astoria over there, grinding on _him_.’

Malfoy snorted. ‘Wouldn't care a two-sickle toss if it was.’

He edged closer, and Hermione suddenly realised why his scent was so appealing. Beneath piney and citrusy notes, there was lavender. Gosh, how she used to love lavender… She chanced another glance at him. He was still watching her _like that_. Her cheeks heated and she averted her gaze, head spinning. Ron and Lavender over there, lavender swirling all around her… it was too much.

‘I've got to go,’ she said, standing abruptly.

‘Oi, Hermione!’ Harry came staggering towards them, a drink in one hand, the other wrapped around Ginny’s waist. ‘You're not leaving?’

‘I really should…’

Harry frowned at the assortment of empty crystal tumblers strewn across the table. ‘But you're not apparating. Mates don't let mates drink 'n apparate!’ He grinned, extremely pleased with his Muggle reference.

‘You're not sober either, mister.’ Ginny said, giggling.

Harry shushed her, prompting Ginny to hold his mouth shut with her hands, which somehow ended with them snogging against the table.

‘Great.’ Hermione rolled her eyes. ‘My cue to exit.’ She bent to collect her beaded bag. Unfortunately, five Firewhiskies consumed in under an hour didn’t come without consequences. She stumbled forward.

‘Careful there!’ Malfoy caught her around the waist. ‘Tut tut,’ he said, his breath tingling on her neck which, _embarrassingly_ , awoke butterflies in her stomach. ‘Mates don't let mates drink and apparate.’

She leaned into him, drunk on the olfactory cocktail of floral earthiness. ‘Mates?’

‘Mmmm…’ Malfoy hummed and another whiff of lavender sent all her objections flying out of the window. ‘Depends on how drunk you really are…'


	18. To help you sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: To help you sleep  
> Rating: Teen  
> Word Count: 498  
> Tags: Marriage Law, Fluff, Sweet Gestures, Sleep Deprivation
> 
> AUTHOR: [KoraKunkel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKunkel/pseuds/KoraKunkel)

Hermione woke with a start, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Images from the War fluttered through her mind, and she snapped her eyes shut as she tried to calm herself.

The recurring nightmares were starting to take their toll; Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she slept for more than three hours. 

Sighing, she reached on the nightstand for her wand. _The_ nightstand, not _her_ nightstand. Because nothing was hers in this house. 

In Malfoy’s house. 

Even though they’d been married—or rather, forced to be married by the new law—for the better part of four months, she still couldn’t bring herself to call anything in this room hers. She was only glad they slept separately. 

Finally finding the familiar length of her vine-wood wand, Hermione cast a _Tempus_ spell and the numbers, _3:22_ flashed above the tip. With a groan, she chucked the wand back onto the nightstand before noticing something on the table that hadn’t been there before. 

A purple, ornate sachet sat on the edge, a folded piece of parchment resting atop it. With sleep long gone, curiosity won out and she picked up the note as she sat up. 

_To help you sleep._

She instantly recognized the elegant scrawl as Malfoys and suspicion replaced curiosity. Grabbing her wand, she cast a diagnostic charm over the pouch to check for any dark magic. When nothing was revealed, Hermione set her wand down again and gently picked it up. 

The calming scent of lavender filled the room, and it instantly calmed her. 

How did Malfoy know she couldn’t sleep? 

With a glare aimed at her door, she stood from her bed without thinking and suddenly found herself knocking on his just across the hall. 

A moment later it cracked open, revealing the blonde wizard dressed in nothing but his black boxers. A blush spread from the base of her neck to the top of her head at the sight of the masculine figure before her, but the lingering scent of lavender reminded her why she was there. 

“What is this?” She asked as she held up the purple pouch. 

“I know you have nightmares, Granger. You’ve been forgetting to put up your usual Silencing Charms.” Malfoy replied as he crossed his arms and leant against the door frame. His muscles bulged from the movement and Hermione swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. 

“W-well I don’t need it.” 

“A simple thank you should suffice.” His signature smirk spread across his face and Hermione instantly bristled. 

He wanted a thank-you? Fine, she would give him a thank-you. 

Raising on her tip-toes, Hermione pressed a swift kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.” 

Without waiting for a response, she turned and all but ran back to her room. Shutting the door behind her, she leant against it and raised the lavender sachet to her nose. A small smile graced her lips as she inhaled the earthy scent.

Maybe this _would_ finally help her get some sleep.


	19. Apprehension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Apprehension  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings/Tags: None
> 
> AUTHOR: [TheMourningMadam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMourningMadam/pseuds/TheMourningMadam)

“Be careful, Hermione. He’s much bigger than you—you don’t stand a chance if he comes up from behind,” Weasley grumbled, his face a humorous shade of puce. Ropes bound him tightly, the aftereffect of being taken off guard by the false perpetrator. 

Draco smirked as he struggled against the bindings. Potter glared at him and dragged his wand down the front of Weasley’s chest, snapping the ropes apart. “It’s only training, Ron. It’s why we’re here—he won’t stand a chance next time.”

Draco rolled his eyes just as Granger stepped up from beside him. She looked up at him, unspoken words of reassurance passing between them, as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got this.”

Her face lit up, an anxious smile appearing as her brow set with determination. She nodded once and waved her wand toward her head of wild curls, sending them twisting into a knot on top of her head. As she rolled her shoulders and got into the proper stance, Draco lifted his hand to his mouth, resting his face in his palm as he studied her technique. The two of them were neck-in-neck, engaged in a silent battle for the top position among the Auror trainees. But damn if Draco didn’t admire her style.

The conference room had been transformed into a forest, thick with brush and brambles. The false perpetrator cackled somewhere to the left and Granger’s eyes flickered toward the sound. Draco stood alongside her, his eyes never wavering from her face as she closed hers and simply listened. 

Finally, her eyes flickered open and she took off sprinting into the forest, her wand at the ready. The wizards all watched as she disappeared into the forest, running in the opposite direction of the laughter. _“Confringo!”_

A tree fifteen metres up split clean in half, glowing embers settling along the cleft. The perpetrator attempted to send multiple offensive spells in her direction, which Granger was more than capable of warding off with a series of intricate defensive blocks. His heart raced as he internally cheered her on. When she shrieked, _“Locomotor mortis! Incarcerous!”_ a grin spread across Draco’s face.

She emerged from the forest, leaves trapped in her hair as she triumphantly raised the perpetrator’s wand. Walking past Weasley, she sneered and tossed the wand in his direction. “That’s how to apprehend a suspect.”

Weasley gawked after her as Potter smirked, clapping his friend on the back apologetically. “Sorry, mate. But that was brilliant.”

Granger’s victorious smile was sweet, but not quite as saccharine as her voice when she murmured, “Thanks for the private lessons. You were right—visionless Legilimency is a skill more valuable to what we do than anything else we’ve studied so far.”

With that, she pulled the twist from her hair and her curls sprang forth around her face. Her scent—an intoxicating mix of lavender and honey—sent his heart racing and reminded him of exactly how their last private lesson had ended.

“The pleasure’s all mine.”


	20. The Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: When We Were Young  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 361  
> Warnings/Tags: Lavender, Eluding to sexual encounter, pining love
> 
> AUTHOR: [NotSoSirius92](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSoSirius92/pseuds/NotSoSirius92)

He stood in a field of lavender. 

He hoped she would come. The simple bouquet he sent her - a reminder- that he still existed and sought her presence. Of a simpler time where they’d once found solace in this place. Before death and war tarnished them. 

The war was over, and he thought that maybe it was time for closure. For something other than the deadened weight in his stomach.

“Draco,” a soft voice called to him, and he turned. 

“Hermione,” he replied, sweeping his gaze

over her, taking in every imperfection and drinking it in like the sweetest mead. 

The thing about her was, she was perfect within those imperfections. Her mouth wasn’t perfect, her front teeth were slightly longer than normal, and her lips formed a smirk way easier than a shy smile. Her hair was riotous and cackled like a burnished fire when she was angry. Her nose was tiny, and a smattering of freckles across it made her skin seem blemished when she was sun kissed. 

“You look well,” he finally broke the silence. 

Her eyes though, that whiskey brown, were clear and crisp and boring into him with righteous indignation, and maybe hurt, too. 

“Really, Draco? Niceties?”

A million words rang across the field as the distance between them closed. 

And though the lies Draco had shoved in her face all those years ago would tell the world otherwise; he was, and always would be, irrevocably in love with her. 

But she was light, and he was a perpetual fuck up, and he couldn’t ruin someone like her. 

He brushed his fingers against hers, closing his eyes tight. 

“If I could do it over,” he whispered, “I would choose you.” 

The bouquet sat discarded between them. A token of a romance that went down in flames. A forgotten relic to the times where he would throw her down in this very field - in the spring when lavender bloomed- and whispered admirations across her skin. 

“I never stood a chance, did I?” The words tumbled through his unwilling lips. 

Hermione cocked her head to the side, a sad smile on her face. 

“That’s the thing- you did, once.”


	21. Good Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Good Fortune  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 496  
> Warnings/Tags: Marriage Law, Mutual Pining
> 
> AUTHOR: [Weestarmeggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weestarmeggie/pseuds/Weestarmeggie)

Narcissa pressed the bouquet into Hermione's shaking hands and slipped her arm through the gap of her elbow. The handful of other couples waiting to be married - alongside their one guest, their witness - sat stoically as Hermione passed them.

Her eyes drifted to the flowers in her hand and when they came to a stop, Narcissa passed Hermione off to her son. The son Hermione was being forced to marry if she wanted to keep her place in the society she had helped save little more than a year before.

After, when they were waiting in line to sign their marriage certificate and before they Floo’ed back to Malfoy Manor, where a reception worthy of the Malfoy name was waiting for them, Draco took Hermione's bouquet and she watched with bated breath as he examined the flowers in it. 

She’d chosen each one carefully and when Narcissa had seen just what she’d selected, the older witches lips had tilted up in a small smile. 

Draco’s fingers hovered over the sprigs of lavender and Hermione watched him swallow nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the action. 

“How long?” He asked and Hermione bit at her lip as she pondered the truth, and whether or not it was something she wished to share with him. “Did you know that Lavender, amongst other things, can attract love?” He continued when she said nothing. “Hermione?”

“Three years.” She said quietly, averting her gaze when he stared at her in shock. 

She could feel the blush spreading up her neck and across her face from her confession and then he was stepping forward and taking her hand in his, their fingers intertwining as he murmured, “Hermione.”

“I know it’s silly.”

He shook his head and passed the bouquet back to her. He slipped his free hand inside of his robes. Hermione's lip trembled as she stared at what he withdrew, a sprig of his own lavender, before he slipped it back into his robes and caught her chin between his fingers. 

“Good fortune and peace,” she whispered, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips. Her eyes flicked over Draco's face and she could scarcely begin to hope that perhaps things would be ok.

Would be good.

“How long have you had feel-”

“Since sixth year. Since-“

“Amortentia.” Hermione breathed. Draco nodded right as she took a step forward into his space. 

“You should know,” he murmured, one hand brushing a flake of confetti from her shoulder. Gliding down her bare arm and coming to a rest on her hip, his fingers spanned her waist and his thumb rubbed circles through the thin lace of her wedding dress. “That I had a hand in requesting you.” He met her eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he stared down at her.

Hermione’s lips twitched and she tilted her face up to his, their lips brushing gently as she said, “bribing Ministry officials does seem to be a Malfoy familial trait.”


	22. I Called It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: I Called It  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 166  
> Warnings/Tags: Explicit Language, 8th Year
> 
> AUTHOR: [TwistedTurtle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedTurtle/pseuds/TwistedTurtle)

**Lavender Brown’s POV, 8th-year common room, 7:38 pm**

_Sigh_. I am for once trying to get some work done…  
This Charms project is kicking my ass, I’ve already worked on it for like …10 hours. _With Justin Flinch-Fletchley_. He’s not even nice to look at. I guess it couldn’t hurt to take a break for a bit. I mean, I’ve already been working for like a _whole 12 minutes_. By myself.

_Oooo_ , Draco Malfoy has returned to the common room… he got so fit over the war. Man, the things I would do to him if he let me … It was apparently NOT a welcome gesture to show up at his door at 2 am with nothing but my robe on. 

Oh great, Hermione is here too. I hope they don’t … too fucking late for that, they’re already bickering. Jeez, they’ve been bickering since the start of this project a week ago. JUST FUCK ALREADY. 

Oh. _Apparently_ they’re taking my advice.

Well, I called it.


	23. When did this get here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: When did this get here?  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings/Tags: No Warnings, Marriage Law
> 
> AUTHOR: [kurisutenchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurisutenchan/pseuds/kurisutenchan)

Draco could not say he had been kind to his wife throughout their marriage. Mandated by the Ministry, in the beginning his contempt for Hermione was high.

She’d taken their pairing worse than he had. He’d sat through an entire meeting with the Minister where she’d yelled herself blue in the face and then yelled some more, only to stomp out. It was admirable really, the amount of passion she’d put into her rant about wanting to marry _literally anybody else._

“I’m rather upset, too,” Draco had said, before rising from his seat and seeing himself out with his chin high.

Six months later a small wedding was held in the Malfoy gardens. There were no guests save for his mother, a handful of albino peacocks, and the officiant—something the Weaslette had sent him a long howler over—and the night ended without any of the beautiful cake the elves had spent the entire day over.

A year into their marriage his mother passed. They stood together at her funeral, the only attendees as Narcissa was placed in the ground next to his father. Hermione didn’t say anything, just stood in the silence as he held his chin up, tears sliding down his cheeks. Eventually, she reached out and grasped his forearm, a steadying gesture.

As much as he’d disliked her then, he was grateful she was there.

He’d tried to pull away after his mother’s death, attempted to drown himself at the bottom of a _very expensive_ bottle of firewhisky, but Hermione reached further for him with every step he attempted to take out of her reach. Perhaps she’d seen the signs of his descent into depression like she had during their formative years and decided she couldn’t have his death on her conscience for not trying, he wasn’t sure. Suddenly she was forcing him out on shopping trips, insisting on going to the quidditch matches she’d griped about, making him go to muggle eateries in London and nagging him to eat new foods and broaden his horizons. 

Draco could not say what exactly had changed, but one morning he woke and everything was lighter than it had been in too long.

Just like she’d been forcing him for months, he sat across from her at a small table she’d placed in the kitchen for their breakfasts. It was like he was looking at her for the first time in his life and being struck by the most bizarre feeling of awe. Her nose was scrunched up in distaste, curly hair tossed into an unbelievably messy heap on the top of her head, no formal robes befitting a Malfoy wife but instead just plain muggle pyjamas. She was leaned on one knee, a book to the side of her plate that her eyes hadn’t left once while she attempted to shovel eggs into her mouth.

And somehow, it was the most beautiful thing he’d seen when she looked up and scowled at him for staring.


	24. Just Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Just Friends  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings/Tags: Curse Breaking, Enemies to Lovers
> 
> AUTHOR: [NuclearNik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/pseuds/NuclearNik)

Hermione couldn't tell you when she and Draco Malfoy crossed the line between bitter enemies and somewhat unwilling acquaintances, and she definitely didn't remember when they moved into begrudging admiration territory.

She wasn't proud of it. Malfoy's ego was plenty inflated enough on its own. It didn't need any encouragement from her.

Still, being forced to work with him hadn't been as bad as she'd thought, and even she had to admit he was exceedingly skilled in complicated spellwork, something that came in handy when they had curses to break. She simply respected his dedication to his work as someone who held such values in high standing herself, and that was it. There was absolutely no way it had anything to do with him as a person.

It couldn't be; he was a rather unlikeable person to begin with. Stubborn, arrogant, entitled, and contrary just for the fun of it.

Very few redeeming qualities.

Though his hair _was_ nice. And he did hold doors open for her when they were on assignment. His intelligence was certainly appealing, and maybe, _perhaps_ , she could admit he was not a chore to look at, and he had very neat penmanship. Sometimes he knew more about something than she did and it annoyed her just as much as it ratcheted up his appeal; she did so admire an intelligent man.

So really, hardly anything of quality to be found there at all.

He was just a work partner. And if there were occasional moments when their hands brushed and it felt like sparks dancing over her skin, well, there must be some sort of scientific explanation, an electric current unknowingly charged between them, surely.

That was all.

* * *

Hermione could tell you when she and Draco Malfoy skipped right over _friends_ and dove straight into the deep end of _lovers,_ a moment she would forever memorialise as “The Incident.”

It was hot.

The weather, that is. Not “The Incident,” though the memory of it did bring a flush to her face.

It was hot and sticky, and they’d spent all day in the Morrocan sun trying to break through a series of intricately woven wards protecting a cache of Dark Artefacts.

When evening fell, bringing darkness yet no true relief from the heat, they trudged back to their tent.

The details were a bit hazy, but there’d been a spat over who got to use the outdoor shower first, and then they were stripping off their clothes and staring each other down, chests heaving with furious breaths.

Everything was still for a moment. Then it exploded, her awareness reduced to sensation alone. It was all tongues and teeth and hard-pressing mouths, a hot, firm body against her own and hands that held her just right.

They didn’t speak of it in the morning, preferring to pretend they had never crossed the aforementioned line.

Upon returning home, they held out for a while, resisting right up until she pushed him into a broom closet.

_Definitely not friends._

**Author's Note:**

> [VOTE HERE](https://forms.gle/FWLC1Zf6ut96oUCc8)


End file.
